Party Flavors

The penthouse apartment was huge, larger than the house Amy grew up in, but still managed to be tight and stifling with all the people, noise, and scents crammed inside. The crush of shoulders she had to pass through to get anywhere was agony. The only saving grace was Barry’s hand in hers and their boldfaced ecstatic smile.

Amy had steeled herself beforehand or at least attempted to. Tonight was about the future, the real tangible, obtainable future. She would be in the moment, mind and soul, no matter what her body seemed to think. She’d drag it kicking and screaming into the future she wanted if it was the last thing Amy ever did.

Barry Downunda looked exactly like their profile picture. A rust-colored Quokka with lovely green eyes and friendly smile, they had picked up Amy from her apartment exactly on time. They had exited the beat-up sedan to circle and open the door for Amy to slide into like a proper gentleperson. Amy couldn’t help but feel flattered.

Barry’s Alpha scent permeated the vehicle, but not in an overpowering manner. Fresh linens right out of the dryer. A summer breeze slipping through an open window. The smell of your own bed arriving home from a long journey. Calm, comforting, unassuming smells that made Amy strangely nostalgic for her childhood home. She dismissed, with great effort, the creeping sense of discontent, of disappointment and boredom the bouquet filled her with.

They grabbed a small dinner from a tiny, hole-in-the-wall bistro Amy had never heard of, but Barry insisted was a staple for their industry crowd. Indeed, the bathroom walls were graffitied with tags from all sorts of performers in permanent marker. Singers, bands, names even she recognized. Amy had assumed Barry worked at a small performing arts center working the sound board for children’s puppet shows or something…but now she was suspecting she might be doing Barry a disservice with her assumptions.

Over a light fair of tapas, Barry chattered excitedly about their work, their friends, and the party they were headed to. Amy talked about her photography and Barry admitted they’d been through her entire Promptagram history. When they asked if she had ever done any cinematography, Amy shook her head.

“Do you wanna?” They asked, “I can introduce you to the photography director from that last music video I mixed for. He should be at the party.” Barry pulled up a page on IMDb. “Here’s his movie credits.”

Amy’s eyes went wide. She tried to cover her nervousness with a laugh. “What kind of party is this?”

“Oh, right. So, it’s the release party for Miss Moon’s latest album. I think it goes on sale on Monday or something. Or maybe it was last Monday…” Barry made this tiny thinking face and Amy found the expression cute as hell. She resisted the urge to boop their nose.

“That, uh, sounds fancy,” Amy looked down at herself. She’d worn a yellow A-line cotton dress with a ribboned lacing on the front of bodice and sharp pleats in the silhouette that ended right above her knees. The yellow was covered in a floral pattern of white roses. The neckline left her shoulders mostly exposed, but she covered her arms with a cream-colored cardigan that might could pass as a bolero if you squinted.

Truth be told, it was a summer dress. She would have worn her usual party dress, a black frilly halter top dress covered in deep red roses, but the coloration…made her chest hurt. She let her body have that one. Amy promised herself that she would be fine, eventually. Until then, she didn’t need to win all the battles with herself immediately. Amy just put on a different dress for now.

After the valet driver took Barry’s keys, they entered the spectacular lobby of a high-rise apartment building. Amy stared wide-eyed at the high ceilings and art installation of assorted chrome metal parts assembled into the shape of a hedgehog. She took a picture with her phone and sent it to Sonic. Have you been modeling on the side without me knowing? Her roommate’s reply came quickly and he leaned into the joke, ah, you’ve met my loathsome copy, I see. Strange isn’t it?

Every attendee went through a metal detector, and all large bags were checked. Amy’s concern regarding how out of depth she was getting was growing, but Barry seemed unphased. Getting to the head of the line, they were asked by a lemming in a security uniform for their IDs. Amy slowly fished around in her small purse, debating which to produce. Making a decision, she, for perhaps the first time in years, willingly handed over her real ID card.

The security guy took one look at the bold O on her ID and his face fell. “Please step over there.” He indicated an area separated from the rest of the lobby by a phalanx of tall potted plants. Amy blushed, instantly regretting outing herself…but Barry would have questions if she used her faked Beta ID. Was she ready to have that conversation?

An ibex, his horns trimmed close, in a similar security uniform addressed Barry, “Are you her escort, sir?”

Barry frowned at the question, “Oh, yes, I guess I am.” They looked at Amy as if they’d never been asked that question before. Amy looked at the ground and clutched her purse tightly. The burning in her face was offset by an iciness running down her spine. Shame and fear, hand in hand. Amy hated it.

“She should wear a mask, sir.”

Amy’s temper flared at both the statement and at how fucking he dare talk like she wasn’t standing right here! “No. I won’t.” She snapped. Asshole!

The goat seemed surprised at her outburst but returned his attention to Barry with a sigh. “The guest list is thirty percent Alphas, sir.” That gave Amy pause and the fire in her belly settled. T-that many? How big was this space?

“Uh, Amy said no. Didn’t you hear her?” Barry looked confused, like they didn’t understand what was going on.

The security guy appeared to be resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Okay, if you’re sure.” The ibex produced a clip board. “I need you both to sign this waiver. The venue requested she be masked and you declined.”

Face burning with humiliation, Amy snatched the wavier and signed it. She knew what it contained. Along with waiving any right for Amy or Barry to sue, they were also committing to indemnify the venue should a criminal or civil suit be filed by other party goers over any Omega related behavior. A pre-confession of guilt as it were. Amy was willing putting herself in this situation, so only she legally bore the burden of whatever happened to her.

Barry was reading the document, but they glanced up when she signed. Their brow knitted, but they signed as well. “I don’t see why this is necessary. You’re not making anyone else sign these.”

“Thank you.” The security man collected their forms. “There is a bathroom reserved for Omegas that the venue requests that she uses rather than the gen pop one.” Somewhere far away and out of sight, no doubt. Somewhere that could double as a quarantine cell if needed. Amy swallowed down her anger. She was supposed to be starting a new future tonight. And part of that seemed to be swallowing the indignity of her second sex wholesale.

Barry frowned. “W-what? Why?” Amy knew she should find their ignorance adorable, but it was just prolonging the encounter. Barry meant well, but it was annoying the hell out of her.

The security man’s face fell into a frustrated scowl that just screamed you know why. “It’s just policy, sir.” He said with a bit of bite.

“But t-that’s-“ Barry began to protest.

“It’s fine.” Amy interrupted. She couldn’t take any more. It was sweet, really, she knew it was sweet*,* Barry trying to speak up for her, but Amy just wanted to be done and get to the party. “Can we go now?” She addressed the rent-a-cop.

“Yes, ma’am. Have a wonderful evening.” He motioned them to the metal detectors.

A private elevator delivered them into a grand foyer where an attendant took their coats and directed them towards the main area. Amy half-regretted her choice of dress now, because the light coloring made her stand out among the dim lighting and crush of people in saturated dark hues. She seemed to glow. A pale spring flower lost amongst the darkness left as tribute to the approaching winter.

They entered the party proper, and Amy was immediately confronted with enough nerve-wracking scenario. Avoiding contact with random strangers proved impossible and all of Amy’s concentration was directed towards resisting her urge to scream. Fingers laced into hers and her head snapped around. Barry smiled at her and said something she couldn’t hear. Amy nodded anyway, hoping that Barry could rescue her from this hell.

If her Alpha could rescue her from this hell. Amy tested the thought in her head. She didn’t hate it. Amy would have to take that as progress. Maybe acceptance was like a muscle. It needed exercising.

Barry led her through the throng and Amy focused on the warmth of their hand gently grasping hers. Little sparks tingled along her fingers, but she reminded herself that Barry was an Alpha, that they wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her. The thought hit a little truer that the previous, soothing her quickly fraying nerves a bit as they slowly worked their way through the mass of people.

Amongst the overflowing bouquet of scents, Amy kept catching whiffs of lavender and coffee. Every time her breath caught and she had to force herself to remain calm. She was imagining things. Her body was still teasing her with its manic disfunction, and she was not going to play that game. Shadow was taken. Her body just had to learn to deal with that fact!

Barry stopped frequently to introduce her to a parade of people they worked with. The faces quickly blurred together for Amy. She smiled as best she could, but the close stuffiness of the space was really getting to her. She felt a sweat break out on her forehead and she released Barry’s hand to shrug off her cardigan. Unsure what to do with the loose article, she tied the arms around her purse and hoped that it would survive the night with her.

When Amy looked up, Barry was gone. She swallowed. Someone pushed into her back suddenly and Amy jumped away, twisting. A kangaroo, blushing with drink, slurred an apology and then turned back to his cluster of companions. Amy wrapped her arms around herself, hugging tightly, trying to make her body as small as possible as she looked for Barry.

It didn’t help that Barry was a little on the short side. There wasn’t anything wrong with that, but she felt lost in a forest of people and propriety wasn’t forefront in her mind. Eventually Amy found load bearing pillar cutting through the open concept living room and pressed herself against it so that she couldn’t get flanked. She closed her eyes and took a few steadying breaths.

Fun. She came here to have fun. She needed to have fun right now. By force of will, Amy compelled herself to calm down and take in her surroundings. The room was crowded, many small, clustered groups amalgamating into a thick cloud of noise and heady scent. The miasma of concentrated Alpha musk was ridiculous. Amy had to squint or her eyes would start watering. She thanked some nameless deity that her heat was looming far enough in the future to not be triggered early.

Against a wall of windows, a DJ nodded rhythmically at his audio equipment while large speakers filled the space with what Amy assumed was very trendy music. The bar setup was crowded in one corner. To a side was a table with strangely aesthetically pleasing piles of snack foods. Cornucopias of caramel corn, delicate frosted glass bowls of chocolate-covered pretzels, individually wrapped mini candy bars sprinkled over the tablecloth like confetti. Amy felt the urge to take a picture, but she didn’t have her camera.

The people were gorgeous. Tall, glamourous, fur and quills on point, clad in clothing that was more statement than practical. Amy felt self-conscious in ways she wasn’t used to. She didn’t often think about her appearance much, wishing mostly to slip under the notice of anyone, but she’d tried to doll herself up for tonight, for Barry. The effort felt wasted in the face of such flagrant beauty. Amy felt the urge to just leave.

“Amy!” Barry jump-scared her and she released an involuntary squeak. “Oh, s-sorry.” They grimaced apologetically. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, no.” Amy placated. “Sorry, I’m just not used to crowds like this.”

“Oh, gosh, I’m sorry.” They looked around, brow furrowed. Amy recognized that expression from Sonic’s frequent usage of it. The ‘looking for a way to make things better’ face. “Would you like a drink?” Barry settled on.

“Yes.” Amy said with more weight than she might have meant. “Please.” Maybe if she got a good buzz going, she’d be able to relax and enjoy herself. Not a sustainable solution, but she needed to try something. She didn’t want to be miserable the whole night, not when Barry seemed to be having a good time. Amy wanted to like all of this.

Barry brightened at the chance to make her feel better. “What would you like?”

Shit, what would she like? Amy had pretty much only had beers her whole adult life. The occasional cheap bottle of wine when Sonic was feeling ‘fancy’. “I don’t know.” She frowned. “Something sweet?”

“Something sweet. I can do that.” Barry nodded vigorously, “Stay right here, I’ll bring it to you.” They briefly touched her arm before darting off. Amy shivered and rubbed the spot. How much longer was she going to hold out on telling Barry about her problem with touch?

What if she never told them? That would be almost like immersive exposure therapy, right? Maybe…maybe she could finally push through and be able to…What had happened so long ago wouldn’t happen again, Amy reminded herself. It had been ten years since-

Amy shook her head. This was not the time to go down memory lane into nightmare fuel alley.

Barry had vanished into the clog of people like they never existed. Amy’s eyes darted around. With every passing moment she grew ever more self-conscious of how much her light-colored dress seemed to glow I the dim lights. Almost as if the little light available had nowhere else to go but her in the sea of tall, stylishly clad partiers. She crossed her arms and hugged herself again.

Amy became aware of a clot of people slowly pushing towards her, driven by some unknown force. She shrank away, leaving the protection of the pilar. Amy backed into someone, the contact sending a jolt through her. She turned and found herself being scrutinized by the small knot of people she’d disturbed. She mumbled an apology and slunk away.

Amy was drowning. The sea of noise and backs and elbows sloshed around her, uncaring, unyielding to her distress. Every open pocket of air seemed already claimed by a table or couch. She found a wall, but it was coated with expensive looking abstract art and the dread of breaking something worth more than her life kept her away. Panic was rising inside her. Did she even know where the exit was?

The worst part was the haunting smell that seemed to chase her. The penthouse was pungent, that was without question, but she could handle the thick aroma. She’d worked enough gigs to handle a heady mix, but there was a taunting streak to it that simply made her want to cry.

Rich earthy undertones of coffee bespotted with hints of fragile floral lavender. Her throat tightened and she tried to cover her nose. If she could just find a private corner, she could take a few huffs from the scent mask hidden in her purse. But that would help if these phantom smells were just another sinister way her body was trying to punish her. Tantalizing her with memories she was desperately trying to shove away.

Then, right before she was sure that she’d be crushed against the rocky shoals of another strange movement of people, she beheld a calm shore. A tight squeeze between two large potted plants led her into a small alcove furnished with a plush leather couch. An elegant cheetah in a shimmering sheath dress lounged on the couch and raised a startled brow at Amy’s entry.

Amy, fighting to keep from hyperventilating, collapsed onto the cushions. “I’m sorry, I just…” She offered. Amy couldn’t even finish her explanation before she covered her face with her hands. She could smell Barry’s scent on her gloves and though some part of her found it revolting, Amy sided squarely with the part of her that felt comforted. Shit! They were probably looking for her.

“It’s fine.” The feline chortled. “Take your time.”

Amy looked up. “Thank you.” The alcove was well cordoned off from the rest of the shindig, a small oasis of calm. Amy spotted a second collection of potted plants flanking a wider entrance opposite the plants Amy had unceremoniously scrambled through. She released an embarrassed huff, realizing she had effectively pushed through a wall in her haste to escape the party. “I-I don’t think I’m built for this sort of event.”

The woman laughed, smooth and lyrical. “I can relate, I’m afraid.” She took a slow sip from a champaign flute. “I suppose that makes me a hypocrite.”

Amy wasn’t sure she wanted to find out what the cheetah meant by that. It felt leading in a rabbit-hole sort of way. “I’ve worked parties like this, but never attended. Never felt like I had to have fun. And now that I’m supposed to, I’m not sure I can. Have fun, I mean.” Was Amy blathering to cover up her anxiety? Sonic was really rubbing off on her. Wait, that came out wrong-

Amy’s companion snorted. “Fun.” The cheetah sighed, a delicate hand, garbed in an opera glove, running along the black marks running along her nose. “I don’t think I ever find events like this fun. But, then again, this is not for me. It’s a celebration for the crew and everyone who worked on the album…and suits who work the numbers.” She ended almost ruefully.

The cheetah felt familiar to Amy, but where exactly she’d seen her before escaped the photographer. Maybe the lady was a model. She had the high cheekbones and slight build for it. “I’m Amy, by the way.” The pink hedgehog held out her hand.

The cheetah blinked at her. Slowly she shifted her glass to her left hand and leaned forward to shake Amy’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Amy.” She shrank back into the cushions, her face falling to an expectant and dejected look.

“Uh, so, what do you do?” Amy asked, unwillingly to sit in awkward silence and worried she was going to get asked to leave.

The elegant feline’s brows rose, and she turned fully to Amy. Her golden eyes looked over Amy, as if really seeing her for the first time, her gaze lingering on Amy’s face. Amy shrank back from scrutiny. Had it been that insulting of a question? “I am a performing artist.” The cheetah answered cautiously, a confused lilt to the answer.

Amy smiled. “Oh, that must be fun. I’m a photographer. Freelance, mostly.” Maybe the lady expected Amy to know who she was.

“Do…you…not know who I am?” The cheetah asked slowly. Yup, that was it. Shit. Probably meant she was somebody pretty famous.

Amy shook her head, but before she could reply, a shadow darkened the entrance to the alcove. A massive black bear entered the space and his dark eyes fell on Amy. She was hit full in the face with an aggressive Alpha musk, causing her to choke. Amy resisted the urge to cover her nose, but the Alpha’s displeasure was nearly overpowering. “Who the fuck are you?” He growled.

“Babe, chill.” The cheetah reached out a hand to the bear. “Amy was just keeping me company.”

The bear’s attention slid to the cheetah, and he sank into the couch beside her, his bulk jostling both women as the couch adjusted to the weight. He pressed his snout into the crook of the cheetah’s neck and Amy caught a glimpse of a large claim mark. Well that explained the Alpha’s hostility. Amy was as scentless she could be, so he’d have no idea that she wasn’t a threat to his Omega.

A pang of envy reverberated through her heart. In that moment Amy desperately wanted to have what they had. Strong, dark arms encompassing her, possessive lips pressed into her neck, the absolute conviction that she was not alone. Amy realized she was panting, and she choked a bit as she tried to swallow the surfeit of saliva fulling her mouth.

The cheetah’s hands carded through the bear’s fur, her eyes on Amy. She slipped her hand into the cushions beside her and produced a napkin. “You’ve got something on your face, dear.” She offered the cloth to Amy.

Recognizing it immediately as a scent mask, Amy accepted the boon with trembling fingers. She shoved it against her face and took a long, deep breath. The relief was immediate. Amy gave a sigh, lowering the mask. Suddenly the whole situation seemed just…better. The party wasn’t as loud, the scents weren’t as maddening. Even the huge, possessive Alpha PDAing his Omega beside her seemed less concerning.

Amy internally kicked herself. She had a mask in her purse! She hadn’t used one in public in so long she’d forgotten that was an option. Amy wasn’t pretending to be a Beta and didn’t need to lock herself in a bathroom to clear her head.

“Babe.” The Omega spoke into her Alpha’s ear. He grunted. “I need a refill.”

The bear groaned, but pulled away. “Same or different?” He asked, looking deep into her eyes, their noses brushing. Amy’s chest tightened again.

“Same.” She trailed a finger down his jawline as he pushed up off the couch. The bear gave Amy one last sideway glare, as if threatening her to try something, and left.

“It’s ironic, isn’t it?” The cheetah said wistfully, still looking off where her bear had existed.

“Huh?” Amy tired to remember what they had been talking about.

“How we have to bare our necks to hide ourselves?” Golden eyes turned to meet green. “Mine’s basically a trademark at this point. My make-up team touches it up to make it even more apparent. And you, your blankness is the same.” Amy blushed as she felt eyes on her bare, unmarked shoulders. “It’s how we control the assumptions others make about us.”

Amy looked down. Her hands worried at the thin strap of her purse. “I guess so. I don’t want to show off my shoulders, but if I don’t, someone might guess what I am.”

“Cursed to live in the eyes of others.” She sighed and then laughed dryly, “But who am I to complain?” Before Amy could respond, the cheetah asked, “Are you here with someone?”

Barry! Amy shot up. “Shoot! Yes, and they’re probably looking for me.”

The cheetah stood in one fluid motion, the sheer shimmer of her dress clinging to every curve of her body. While Amy was in awe, her hand was grabbed gently. A shiver ran along her arm, but Amy bit back the flinch. “Let’s go find them, shall we?” The woman smiled, pulling Amy through the break in the houseplants. Amy swallowed, bracing to be hit with the noise and smell, to cringe against the press of bodies against hers.

But none of that came.

Amy’s brow knit in confusion as a pair of dark clad men, who’d been flanking the entrance to the alcove, move forward and began shoving partiers aside, carving the cheetah a path. The mass of bodies caught on quickly and parted like water before the elegant feline. Amy’s confusion turned into chagrin before decomposing into a bone chilling embarrassment as she realized how many eyes were sliding to her incredulously after basking in the glow of her companion.

Amy allowed herself to be led to the center of the large area where the cheetah stopped and turned to her. “So, who are you looking for?” She asked, expectantly.

“I’m looking for…” Amy absently breathed, her every instinct screaming to flee under the gaze of so many Alphas. Her eyes trailed in a wide swath across the canvas of staring faces until she turned fully around to look down the wound the cheetah’s wake cut across the party.

And there, across the expanse, Amy saw-

“Shadow.” Amy stopped breathing. The world fell away. All the noise, the crush of bodies, the swamp of smells and scents. All of it faded to utter meaningless nothingness because there he was. Every hair and quill on her body lifted as a massive shiver rippled out from the base of her skull. Amy’s vision tunneled, the tableau of excess around her smearing into a dark, incoherent blur leaving Shadow starkly clear and framed in her view.

Quills styled in casual defiance of gravity and his black gloves holding a tumbler of something dark, the black hedgehog was even more handsome than Amy’s heat-addled brain had recorded. He wore a deep burgundy vest covered a dark grey button up that was undone just enough for a whisp of his white chest fluff to peek through the opening. And most important of all, while everyone was looking at the woman beside her, he was looking directly at Amy.

Amy couldn’t have broken eye contact if she had wanted to.

She gasped, the memory of her first knotting blooming like a rose in her mind, gorgeous and libidinous all at once. His ruby eyes seemed to glow in the half-light, utterly entrancing her, ensnaring her, pressing her heart to beat faster. She gave no resistance as her body screamed YES! in ecstatic triumph.

Shadow released a small huff, as if he, too, had been holding his breath, and the corner of his lips raised, as if- Could it be true? Could really be true that he was delighted to see her too*?*

A romantic fantasy spooled out of her imagination. He’d been ripping the world apart to find her. Would have brought down the moon to hold her in his arms again. Will tear lesser men to shreds to possess her.

Amy couldn’t help the small needful whine that escaped her throat. Alpha! Joyful tears were forming in her eyes, her Alpha was here for her! Her undergarment dampened. Everything was going to be okay. Everything would always be okay.

Shadow’s eyes, twin crimson coals afire with lust and care for her, pinned Amy in place as if saying wait right there for me, I am coming and she returned a clear and simple please hurry! He took a step forward and Amy felt that her heart would break out of her chest to meet him halfway.

A hand gripped Shadow’s bicep and both he and Amy visible flinched.

Amy’s euphoria shattered. The world rushed back in, deafening and smothering Amy. Shadow was still there, so close, but the waves of flesh were closing in quickly, cutting them off. She stumbled, the transition jarring, and her hand slipped from someone unimportant’s grasp. Her whole body ached from the whiplash.

She couldn’t help it. Amy’s gaze broke from Shadow’s and she looked at the owner of the offending hand. The dark teal colored heiress from the internet article was trying to garner Shadow’s attention. The older woman was wearing a blood red corseted top and long, flowing, black slacks ending in deadly sharp black stilettos with red soles. The picture of chic, modern style and femininity. A girl boss of epic proportions.

Amy’s elation was snuffed like a candle and a deep, soul-numbing sadness rushed in to replace it. The sadness begat a large litter of agony that clawed at all the tender, hidden areas she’d revealed inside herself in her foolishness. Stupid girl…Had she really learned nothing?

It was true. Shadow was seeing someone. She couldn’t keep the disappointment from her face. Amy couldn’t stand this constant up and down. She couldn’t! Her glands were going to burn her heart out and she’d be just another post on the ‘In Memoriam’ thread. Amy Rose, 25, died of heat death. If only she found someone who loved her.

But then Shadow’s free hand flashed to the woman’s and pried it off him with a discourteous speed and ferocity. The heiress’ face contorted into a mask of confusion and offense. She snaped something sharp at him, but he ignored her. Shadow’s eyes returned to Amy, all the eager happiness replaced with a desperate fear. Still, Amy’s melancholy did not falter.

Shadow began to shake his head, trying to convey something to her. A silent plea for understanding. But his gaze shifted and the light in Shadow’s eyes sharpened, becoming a rough, primal anger that made Amy shudder. His displeasure and rage hit her like a strike to her gut and her ears pinned back. He was angry with her!

Before she could melt into a repentant pile, Amy felt a touch on her arm and she flinched away. “Oh, shoot! I didn’t mean to scare you.” Amy turned to see Barry holding out a glass with an amber liquid inside to her. “I got you an Amaretto Sour. I hope you like it!” His smile was so genuine and so goddamn confusing to her. Amy stared dumbly at the offered drink as if she’d never seen anything like it before in her life. W-what was happening right now?

The cheetah leaned in and whispered something to Amy that she could barely hear, let alone process. Something about leaving them to it. The weight of eyes lifted as the cheetah moved away, but Amy realized that the break in the crowd was filling as well, cutting her off from Shadow.

Amy turned, desperately searching for her dark gentleman, but his visage was shrouded quickly. Between her pulse thundering in her ears and the throbbing of the music, Amy could barely think. Where was she? How did she get here?

“D-do you not want it?” Barry asked beside her and Amy’s focus snapped back to them. She gaped at Barry. Blank faced, mouth wide open, no fucking clue. “I can get you something else.” Yes, she certainly wanted something else.

“Amy?” Barry’s face tightened with concern. “Are you okay?” Amy couldn’t speak. Her brain wasn’t working. Too many inputs. She had no idea how to answer Barry’s question. Was she okay? What did okay even mean?

No, Amy was not okay. Shadow was somewhere across the room and he wasn’t alone.

No, Amy was not okay. She was in no position to treat Barry the way they deserved and pretending that she was made her feel like a piece of shit. No, not just feel like a piece of shit. Amy was a piece of shit.

No, Amy was NOT okay. Shadow was here! Right fucking here in this very room and she wasn’t with him.

“Amy?” Barry repeated, concern gaining an outline of panic. They reached a hand towards her. Don’t touch me. Amy watched gloved fingers travel through the air towards her in slow motion. Please, don’t touch me!

Barry’s hand lightly touched Amy’s forearm, and she flinched. A bolt of fear rocketed up her spine as the absolute horror of her situation. She had allowed another Alpha to touch her. She felt the certainty in her bones, could feel Shadow’s anger permeating the air. Someone was about to die.

*CRACK* The sound of shattering glass cut through the din like a knife.